


The Unraveling of Harvey Specter, Attorney at Law

by laughter_now



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, Plot What Plot, Realizations, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_now/pseuds/laughter_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey is amazing in bed, but this time it's Mike who makes him fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unraveling of Harvey Specter, Attorney at Law

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Suits. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Written in response to a prompt at the suitsmeme. The prompt can be found at the end of the story.

_**The Unraveling of Harvey Specter, Attorney at Law**_  
  
  
Sex is, essentially, a craft.  
  
It's Harvey's firm conviction that like any other craft or skill, sex is something that needs to be learned in order to be brought to perfection. Of course, everyone possesses the necessary basic urges for a quick thrust between the sheets, but that's not the point. Everyone can hit a few keys on a piano or strum the strings of a guitar, but that doesn't make them the next Mozart or Jimi Hendrix, either.  
  
It's practice and dedication that turns a simple skill into an art, and the same way that a musician needs endless hours of finger exercises to get to the point where he masters his instrument – the point where the skill becomes an art that leaves the audience enthralled and breathless – good sex requires practice. No mere repetitions of the same act over and over again, that's not the way greatness lies, but treating each sexual encounter as a lesson – another finger exercise – in which to practice existing skills and try to pick up new ones. Having a good teacher or two along the way doesn't hurt, either.  
  
It's almost like observing a chemical reaction to see which touch results in a shudder or a moan, what makes his bed partner weak-kneed and what to avoid because it turns the other one off when turning them _on_ should be the main incentive.  
  
Of course, it all sounds incredibly technical, and if there is one thing Harvey cannot be accused of – and there's a lot of things he _can_ be accused of, not all of them good – then that he treats sex and his bed partners like nothing more than yet another finger exercise. He's not the type of person to brag – again, something others might disagree with – he's merely well aware of his skills, and he knows he has reached the point where being in bed with someone has become instinctive for him.  
  
Harvey reads people for a living, and it makes no difference whether that skill is applied to a client sitting in his office or to someone writhing beneath or above him in bed. He can confidently say that figuring out someone else's desires in bed is something that no longer requires conscious thought. He reads the signs and reacts accordingly, drawing sighs and moans of pleasure without having to consciously analyze what's going on. He's skilled, he might even go as far as to say that he mastered the art, and his bed partners are reaping the benefits.  
  
It's easier with women, though Harvey has learned a long time ago that gender stereotypes only apply in a very limited frame. But in his experience, women appreciate the sensuality of good sex a lot more than men; they cherish the attention and the small touches and teases that go beyond the mere physical act more than men do. Harvey doesn't get attached, never promises his partners more than a night of mutual pleasure, and in his experience the women he takes to bed unleash a lot more sensuality during those encounters than the men do.  
  
He doesn't bed near as many men as women, either, and when he does it's a lot more physical, much more focused on getting off. Harvey is a goal-oriented person himself, so he can appreciate the mindset in general, but sometimes it's nice to appreciate the view along the way, as well. He wouldn't say that his encounters with men are in any way less rewarding, they're just…different. Not quite as drawn out, maybe, and not always a challenge to his skills. Maybe that is another reason why he takes more women to bed than men, because they make it easier for him to show the different facets of the pleasure he's capable of giving them.  
  
That's Harvey Specter's approach to sex. Not everyone might agree with it, but it's what works for him.  
  
That is, until Mike Ross comes into his life.  
  
Harvey knows that he's breaking a number of rules by sleeping with Mike, and that's aside from the possible mess which the combination of working together and sleeping together might cause. He doesn't worry about official Pearson Hardman policy on fraternization, not mainly. No, it's the complete disregard for his _own_ , self-imposed rules that makes him stop short whenever he takes a moment to think about what the hell he's even doing.  
  
The first time it happened…well, it shouldn't have happened. But it did, though admittedly a few drinks had been involved before they tumbled onto the sheets of Harvey's bed. And thus Harvey broke his first rule of sex: never sleep with someone you work with. It only makes things a whole damn lot more complicated than they need to be, and so far, Harvey has never crossed that particular boundary. He's surrounded by strong, good looking women every day – plus the admittedly more than occasional temptingly handsome man – but it's one thing to see that, to recognize the temptation for what it is, but it's another thing entirely to be stupid enough to give in to the temptation.  
  
There might have been the occasional associate, paralegal or assistant who was attractive enough to warrant a second glance and – more importantly – second thoughts about whether or not this rule is really worth upholding, but he never once acted upon that urge. It just never seemed worth the price he might have to pay for it. Not until Mike came along, that is.  
  
And while they could have put it off as a one-time thing that happened mainly because they were drunk, that excuse no longer holds up after the second time Harvey sleeps with Mike. It definitely becomes very shaky as a valid form of defense after the third time. Harvey has since lost count, but it's painfully obvious that he can no longer put this off as a drunk one night stand.  
  
It's not that he's strictly a one-night-only kind of guy. There have been repeaters before, Scotty most noticeable amongst them, but still, that's always been different. Harvey never gets attached. He doesn't need the entanglements and the mess that comes from mixing sex with emotions, and he always makes a point to let his partners know that he's not aiming to find the love of his life.  
  
Admittedly, the thing with Scotty is a bit different. _Was_ a bit different, because it's over now. But still, there was an attraction there that went a little beyond the mere physical level, some kind of love-hate-thing that came along with them both trying to outdo the other, in court and in bed. It was some of the best sex of Harvey's life, but despite the mutual attraction it was just that. Just sex between two consenting adults who were attracted to one another, not romance or…anything else.  
  
Mike on the other hand…Mike being _Mike_ just has to leave all precedents in the dust and turn all of Harvey's principles upside down.  
  
Harvey reads people for a living, and Mike is ridiculously easy to read at times. Somewhere along the way, maybe after the first time they had sex or perhaps even before that, the way Mike looked at him changed. At first Harvey thought that it was just an infatuation, some passing thing that was enhanced by the night they spent together, but by now there's no denying that this isn't a fleeting thing that's eventually going to go away.  
  
It's pretty damn obvious that Mike is in love with him, and that has never been part of the deal. He's good at hiding it, Harvey has to give him that. He keeps it out of the office, doesn't make googly-eyes at Harvey across the conference room table, but still. It's obvious to everyone who knows where to look, and there are moments when he thinks Harvey's not paying attention that he gets that look in his eyes that says he's thinking of candlelight-dinners, long walks on the beach and holding hands at every given opportunity.  
  
Harvey knows he should put an end to it. He should put a stop to it before Mike gets too entangled in the dream of something Harvey isn't able to give him. He knows he should stop sleeping with Mike, and it should be easy because unlike the young associate he's not in the habit of getting attached. It's best to draw the line clearly and end things once and for all before they get out of hand.  
  
It should be easy, too. They work together; they're not a couple, after all. Harvey should end this now before it turns into a mess.  
  
Only, he can't.  
  
Sex with Mike is…it's different from the other men he's occasionally taken to bed. What Mike lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm. He seems content to let Harvey take the lead, but is demanding enough to not be completely passive and subdued in bed. He appreciates the journey and is willing to admit that Harvey as the more experienced traveler is taking the lead, but he's not completely submissive. He obviously enjoys himself during their encounters – and Harvey has to admit that it's a mutual feeling – and when they're together like that it's almost easy to ignore the looks Mike is giving him, the ones that say that this is more to him than just sex. That alone should be a clear sign for Harvey to end this before this whole thing between them gets out of hand.  
  
Maybe it's selfish, because Harvey doesn't want to give up their encounters. Eventually it's going to have to end, one way or another, but for now he doesn't _want_ to put a stop to it. They don't follow any kind of regular schedule, they're not in a relationship, and for as long as Mike can keep his feelings out of the office, there's no conflict of interest he needs to worry about. Really, there's no reason why Harvey should stop something he enjoys.  
  
They don't follow any kind of regular schedule, either. Sometimes it happens that they're out on a business dinner and end up having a nightcap at Harvey's place which ends up in bed. Sometimes, when the workload is piling up, they take it out of the office and have a dinner of greasy pizza and beer, and once the files are done they fuck right there on the couch in Harvey's living room. There's never any plan to it, never any schedule, just a few ground rules that are ironclad and not meant to be broken.  
  
They always use protection. They never talk about love, or about this being more than it is. And they never spend the night.  
  
Since they always seem to end up at Harvey's place, that pretty much means Mike never stays the night. There's no big discussion about it, either. They have sex, and after a little while of post-coital recovery Mike gets out of bed, takes a quick shower and leaves. It works, and if Mike is looking at him as if he's hoping Harvey will ask him to stay, Harvey pretends to ignore it. It's a clear boundary that's non-negotiable because this is just sex. Nothing more. It can't be.  
  
Harvey can live with that, especially in moments like this when he's standing under the shower after a long week at the office, and Mike opens the glass door and slides underneath the spray beside him, his lips curled into a sly smile. Their initial plan was to watch the game now that they're done with all the files they need for court on Monday, but the way Mike's pressing against him, warm and slick skin plastered against him all over, Harvey is quick to adapt. He pulls Mike in, meets Mike's mouth with his own right underneath the warm spray of water, and it's messy and wet but it feels good and Harvey is more than willing to just go with the flow.  
  
Washing becomes a secondary thought very quickly, especially since Harvey is convinced that they're going to need another shower in an hour or so anyway, and they stumble out of the stall in a lip-locked tumble of limbs after only a few moments. They towel off just enough so that they're not dripping water all over Harvey's hardwood floors, and then they tumble on top of Harvey's sheets.  
  
Mike is responsive against him, making small, keening sounds in the back of his throat as Harvey's tongue winds around his, and as he pulls him closer Harvey can feel a growing hardness press against his thigh. He feels the tug of arousal stir in his own groin, and reaches out towards the bedside table to fumble for condoms and lube even while he tries to decide where this is going, if it's going to be quick and powerful and messy, or if he's going to take his time tonight, time to make Mike fall apart a little before he puts him back together.  
  
It's safe to say that he's momentarily preoccupied, a beginner's mistake the kind of which he's normally above of, and thus is a little surprised when Mike suddenly flips them over, straddling his hips as he leans down for another kiss. Mike's erection is pressing into his belly, and the coarse hairs on Mike's stomach and the press of his weight create a delicious friction against Harvey's cock and yeah – he can definitely work with that.  
  
But then Mike breaks the kiss and frames his face with his hands, and there is something in his eyes, something different and new that Harvey can't quite define.  
  
"How about we try something different this time?"  
  
Harvey can't help it, his mind starts flashing through a catalogue of kinks, of things he'd be willing to do and the things he assumes Mike could be willing to try. It's surprising, really, because he has figured Mike to be safely on the vanilla side of sex – not for a lack of courage and daring, but because Mike is one of those people who is comfortable with what he knows. However, if Mike wants to go there, Harvey is definitely willing to give it a shot. His hands wander up the younger man's back, tracing his shoulder blades as he meets Mike's gaze calmly.  
  
"What do you have in mind?"  
  
Mike smiles – shyly, almost adoringly so – and presses a quick, chaste kiss against Harvey's lips.  
  
"How about you just lay back for a change?" His mouth wanders in a line of small kisses against Harvey's jaw as he speaks, and Harvey can't help the small moan that escapes as he licks along the tender side of his throat. "Let me take care of you tonight."  
  
The last part is not phrased as a question, but still Harvey finds himself hesitating. He has no problem surrendering control once in a while, even if he is sure of the heights he could take this encounter to if he only said no to Mike's request. It's a dangerous game because he knows about Mike's feelings towards him, knows that he shouldn't encourage them, but still he finds himself nodding.  
  
"Okay." The smile he forces onto his face is meant to be challenging, but he doubts Mike even notices it because he's beaming down at Harvey like a kid who just received the best Christmas present ever.  
  
"Good." He leans down to kiss Harvey again, and once they break apart there's a new gleam in his eyes as he leans back and regards Harvey for a long moment. "Good."  
  
Harvey doesn't know what he expected Mike to do next, but he's a bit surprised when Mike leans in for another kiss, one hand still cradling his cheek as he licks into Harvey's mouth. One moment his tongue is almost darting against Harvey's own, the next it's moving in slow, sensual strokes, and the rapid change leaves Harvey reeling and breathless, trying in vain to find a rhythm that would allow him to gain some of the ground beneath his feet back.  
  
Apparently, that's exactly what Mike doesn't want, because just as Harvey is about to bury his hand in Mike's hair to pull him in, maybe even flip them over and take away some of the control that he promised to surrender to Mike for tonight, Mike breaks the kiss. Harvey feels a little bereft at first, but Mike continues to nuzzle and kiss down his throat until his lips are pressing against the hollow at the base of it. Harvey has never paid any particular attention to the small stretch of skin right between his collar bones, the place where the knot of his tie normally rests above his shirt. But now that Mike's tongue is tracing seemingly random patterns against his skin, raising goosebumps all over his body, Harvey doubts that he's ever going to be able to put on a tie again without getting hard in his pants at the memory of this moment.  
  
Harvey's hands are still resting against Mike's back, fingers running absent-mindedly over his shoulder blades as Mike shifts and moves along Harvey's right clavicle, alternating teasing nibs with the _soverygood_ almost-burn of teeth scraping across skin. Harvey can't suppress a small shudder and his fingers tighten against the muscle of Mike's upper back as Mike kisses his way down his chest, and a small gasp – a huff of air, really, not really a gasp – travels up his throat as those wonderful lips descend onto his right nipple.  
  
Harvey can't help himself, he has to close his eyes against the dual onslaught of pleasure and pain as Mike alternates between teasing licks and gentle bites, suction and friction with lips, teeth and tongue. Mike's right hand is mimicking what his mouth is doing on Harvey's other nipple, and the sensation is so good it's almost too much, similar and yet different enough that Harvey doesn't know what to focus on, Mike's mouth or his hand. What he does know, however – another piece of previously unknown information – is that apparently his nipples are hardwired directly to his cock, and every time Mike does something like – _godyeahjustlikethis_ – suck or rub them just right – _just like this_ – he has to struggle not to rut up against Mike in blind search of friction.  
  
Mike doesn't linger, though, no matter how much Harvey might want him to. He gives Harvey's nipple a last, teasing swipe of his tongue, then he moves farther down Harvey's chest, his hands tracing the way his lips and mouth are about to take. Harvey leans his head back into the pillow, not bothering to stifle the moans that have been building up in his chest for the past minutes. What Mike is doing there…it makes him want to lose himself in the gentle, teasing, arousing touches.  
  
It almost feels as if Mike is mapping his body with hands, lips, tongue and teeth, recording every single one of Harvey's reactions, lingering whenever a touch draws a gasp or a moan from his lips. It's different than what Harvey is used to, though. Different because deep down, in the distant part of his brain that is still capable of something akin to rational thought, Harvey knows that Mike's actions aren't led by any intricate plan. There's no double meaning to anything Mike does, no ulterior motive, no scheme or plan he acts according to. Mike is someone who lives in the moment, who lets his gut – or more often his bleeding heart – lead his actions, and that's no different in the bedroom than it is in the office.  
  
Everything Mike is doing, every touch, caress, kiss and bite, he does because his incentive for the night is to make Harvey feel good. It's humbling, in a way, to be at the complete center of Mike's attention like this, with the knowledge that there's no ulterior motive behind anything Mike does. It's almost too hard to just lie back and accept what Mike is offering him. It's easier, more natural for Harvey to take charge, to be on the giving end instead of laying back and surrendering to someone else's ministrations. But this is Mike, and things with Mike have been different right from the start, even if part of him still isn't quite ready to accept that.  
  
And then Mike does something with his tongue in Harvey's navel and god, this should be _illegal_ , and when exactly did his navel turn into an erogenous zone? He can't help it, his fingers thread themselves into Mike's hair on their own account, and it takes all of his considerable self-control to not start pushing Mike's head down. Instead, Mike looks up and Harvey is treated to the sight of those huge blue eyes looking up at him, the skin at the corners of Mike's eyes crinkling in amusement, and his lips red and slightly kiss-swollen as he rests his chin on Harvey's stomach and looks up at him along the length of his body.  
  
Harvey wants to ask what seems so amusing, but in this position Mike's chest is pressing Harvey's cock against his stomach, and the friction pretty much fries all the synapses in his brain that would still leave him capable of coherent speech.  
  
"You're flushed," Mike answers the unspoken question, and the smile on his face widens. "It's a good look on you."  
  
Harvey wants to respond to that. He really does, and he's pretty damn sure his brain is about to come up with a snarky yet witty reply to take Mike down a notch, but at that moment Mike leans down and his lips close around the head of his cock, and all Harvey is capable of thinking is _wetsuctionwarmthMike_ as his eyes roll back in his head and he sinks deeper into the mattress as Mike seems to suck the last shred of muscle control right out of him through his dick.  
  
He would deny, in front of judge and jury if necessary, that he's the source of the deep, guttural moan that reverberates through the bedroom, but he can _feel_ it rise from deep in his chest. Mike hears it too – hell, probably the neighbors two floors down were able to hear it – and he answers it with a sound that is half-chuckle, half-hum around his cock, and Harvey nearly loses it right there.  
  
"Mike," he breathes out, and he himself can't say whether it's a question or a statement, or maybe a plea after all.  
  
His fingers are still wrapped into Mike's short hair, not really pushing or holding him, just trying to hold on to something. It isn't enough though, not nearly enough, and as Mike slides one hand up Harvey's thigh, fingers brushing over the sensitive inside until Harvey opens his legs wider, then up along the juncture of hip and thigh, and Harvey can take it anymore. With what feels like almost superhuman effort he untangles one hand from Mike's hair and reaches out, blindly groping along his own skin until his hand finds Mike's and their fingers intertwine. Mike squeezes his fingers tightly as his mouth slides down yet another inch on Harvey's cock and _yes_ , Harvey is content to go out like this, with his brain frying from sensory overload but holding on tightly to Mike's hand.  
  
There are worse ways to go.  
  
Then Mike's hand slides out of his and this just won't do. He really needs to hold on to something right now, but he can't find Mike's hand again. He can only feel the movement of Mike's mouth up and down the length of his shaft, the way his tongue is running along the underside one moment only to circle around the sensitive part below the head the next, wet and slick and _perfect_.  
  
Harvey would be content to just float on the sensations for as long as possible, until he can't take it no more and falls apart underneath and into Mike. He is a connoisseur of the slow buildup, someone who appreciates taking his time, but right now he's not too sure for how long he's going to be able to last like this, tethering on the delicious brink of sharp arousal. He knows he's moaning unashamedly, but can't really bring himself to care. It's definitely not the first blowjob he ever received, and maybe not even the best. It's a little sloppy, a little inexperienced maybe, but if Harvey wanted porn star perfection, he'd have gone for a meaningless one night stand with someone whose sole goal was to bring him off as effectively as possible.  
  
But this is _Mike_ , not some nameless, meaningless encounter. This means something to Mike, far more than it should, and maybe it means far more to Harvey than he's willing to admit. That alone makes this so much better than any other encounter. Technique is highly overrated when something feels this good.  
  
He's just about to let himself fall into the sensations completely when suddenly there's a new touch breaking through his lust-filled haze. A hand cups his balls, the touch of fingers warm and slick – and yes, that would explain why Mike let go of his hand, to go searching for the dropped tube of lube amongst the sheets. While his mouth is still working up and down Harvey's cock, Mike gently massages his balls, slick fingers inching to the stretch of skin behind them, pushing Harvey yet another bit closer towards the edge.  
  
The touch is insistent and incredibly arousing, and Harvey unconsciously pushes his hips into the contact, trying to get more of this, of the feel of Mike's fingers pressing against him in a way that so good it's almost criminal. He can't really say for how long this lasts, whether it's mere moments or long minutes, but he only forces his mind back into the here and now when Mike's tongue traces along his cock one last time, and then the wonderful heat of his mouth is gone. Harvey's eyes snap open, protest already forming on his lips as he tries to catch Mike's eyes and ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing.  
  
Mike's eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks up at Harvey, a silent question in his gaze. It takes Harvey a moment to catch up, until he realizes that those tantalizing slick fingers are circling his hole to understand what Mike is trying to ask, and for a moment the younger man's hesitation stops him short. They might not have done this before, in fact Harvey hasn't done this with anyone in quite a while, but that has nothing to do with preference, or with any need to be in charge at all time.  
  
Yet that's exactly what's resonating in Mike's gaze, as if he's asking for something he's sure Harvey is not going to be willing to give, anyway. Which is a misconception if Harvey ever saw one, one they need to deal with pretty damn quickly. He might not enjoy bottoming if he has the feeling that he's just a convenient tight hole for the other one to get off in, but that does not mean he doesn't enjoy it on principle. Because he does. Really.  
  
It's not something he can easily put into words, though, not with Mike's finger rubbing against his hole in tantalizing circles, and definitely not with those eyes turned towards him, wide and open and so obviously steeling himself for the rejection Mike seems convinced is going to be the answer to his silent question. There's no room for insecurity in Harvey's bed, especially not when the answer is so incredibly easy.  
  
He tilts his hips, trying to get leverage against the mattress as he lets his legs fall open wider and pushes back against Mike's finger. Mike's eyes widen, and Harvey catalogues the reaction for later, vows to make it clear once and for all that if Mike wants something, he damn well has the right to ask for it. He enjoys to take charge in bed, but he also knows how to lay back and let someone else take the wheel for a while.  
  
That little speech will have to wait until later, though, because after a second or two of wide-eyed surprise Mike is finally sliding one lubricated finger into him, and god…it's been a while, so long that Harvey almost forgot the glorious feeling of being worked open. His pulse speeds up in anticipation of the stretch and almost burn of being spread, not quite painful but sharp enough to put his senses on edge like nothing else does. But not yet. For now it's one finger sliding into him – not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him that he missed this feeling.  
  
He cants his hips, trying to get the finger in deeper. Mike stills him with a hand against his hip, fingers splayed, and Harvey would swear he can feel each point of contact burn into his skin as Mike finally slides the finger in fully and draws it out again. He keeps repeating the movement, his pace so slow it's almost antagonizing because Harvey wants _more_ , and preferably right the fuck now, thank you very much.  
  
That doesn't seem to be part of Mike's plan, however, and he keeps working his finger into Harvey at this maddeningly slow pace, the pad of his middle finger teasing the rim of his hole but never quite breaching, and it's driving Harvey crazy because he needs more of this. It's far too long until the searing hot touch against his hip vanishes and Mike fumbles to open the lube with his free hand. It breaks the rhythm of the finger slowly sliding in and out of him, and the only reason why Harvey bites his lip and swallows his protest is the prospect of a second finger sliding into him soon.  
  
Not soon enough, but finally there it is, the press of another finger sliding past the ring of muscles and right _there_ …  
  
Harvey's head drops back against the pillow and a groan forces past his lips. Right there it is, the pleasant burn he's been waiting for. It's just two fingers, nothing compared to the feeling of a cock sliding into him, but it's the first glimpse of what it's going to feel like once Mike finally slides into him. He forces his eyes open, no small feat considering he simply wants to lay back and let the sensations wash over him for the rest of the night, to find Mike watching him. The hesitation in his gaze has been replaced by a mixture of determination and amusement, but it's the underlying want and sheer _lust_ in those blue eyes that almost undoes him.  
  
Mike's hand presses against the inside of his thigh and he follows the movement willingly, his legs splaying open to give Mike more room to work those fingers into him. His hands are scrambling to find purchase against the sheets, blunt fingernails testing the stability of the insanely high thread count. The need to touch is almost overwhelming, but Mike is too far out of his reach. Were it not for the promise to let Mike set the pace he'd be moving already, reaching out for the younger man just so that he could finally touch him and feel his smooth skin under his hands, kiss that small smirk right off his face and just rut against him until he comes.  
  
But he agreed to this, this wonderful, antagonizing, incredibly arousing way Mike is working him open, and he's going to let Mike set the pace, no matter how much it's straining his self-control.  
  
The fingers are sliding into him easily now, the slow burn replaced by an itch for more, _nowpleasenow_ , but before the words make it from his brain to his mouth Mike slides the fingers in again and _crooks_ them, and Harvey's vision explodes. Mike's fingers press against his prostate unerringly and Harvey's hips arch off the bed at the full body shudders running through him. His cock is hard against his stomach and begging for attention, leaking steadily now, and as Harvey opens his eyes again Mike is _grinning_ up at him. The little shit is enjoying Harvey's unabashed reactions, but Harvey doesn't have it in him to be put upon by it because on the next slide in Mike hits that spot again, drawing another breathless moan out of him, and before Harvey can ride out the sensation completely he slides in a third finger.  
  
"Mike…"  
  
There's a flash of worry in his gaze as Mike looks up, even though the way Harvey keeps pushing his hips back against his fingers should be a clear sign that he doesn't object to what Mike is doing in any way. Harvey himself doesn't know what he wants to say, which of the words running through his head would make the most sense – _goodhardermorenowpleaseMike_ – and maybe he just wants to hear the sound of Mike's name, the sound of his own voice raspy and hoarse from arousal.  
  
What he really wants, though, is to feel Mike slide into him, to have Mike touch him and finally be able to touch back in return, to stroke and hold and grasp and cling, but he's unable to form any kind of coherent statement out of those rambling thoughts. It should be disconcerting, because this is _his_ forte in bed, to reduce his partner to an incoherent mess. Not the other way around. It doesn't happen to him. Only, this is Mike, and Mike has been turning his world upside down ever since that briefcase split open during their first meeting, and really – he shouldn't be surprised anymore.  
  
"Mike…"  
  
It's all he can say, apparently, the only word of his extensive vocabulary that's been left, but that's okay because it feels as if it's the only word he's ever going to need again.  
  
"God, Harvey." There's a note of awe in Mike's voice, but Harvey's world is so centered around his own arousal that he barely notices. "Do you have any idea what you look like right now? How amazing you look, spread open for me like this?"  
  
Distantly, Harvey recognizes and admires Mike's ability to still speak in coherent sentences. Mike leans down and presses a line of kisses along the inside of his thigh, and it's so tender that Harvey has to close his eyes against the sudden burn behind his eyelids.  
  
Mike pulls out his fingers, and it leaves Harvey feeling strangely empty even though he knows that it's only a matter of moments until Mike is going to be inside of him. At the sound of a foil package being torn open, he opens his eyes again. There's no way he's going to miss the sight of Mike rolling the condom down his length. Harvey has been so focused on his own body and his reactions to what Mike was doing to him that he completely missed how hard Mike himself is, but the way he's biting his lip as he rolls the condom down, the tight grip he keeps on the base of his shaft for a moment speak a clear language. He's tethering on the edge just as badly as Harvey is, and that thought excites Harvey even more.  
  
Mike's hands leave a trail of warmth on his skin as he runs them along Harvey's thighs, spreading his legs even farther. He shifts forward, one hand on the mattress beside Harvey's hip to balance his weight, the other lining up his cock and then…Mike slides into him and _this_ …  
  
It's been a while, and Mike sliding into him is a slow, pleasant burn. The angle isn't perfect, maybe they should have used a pillow or two, but there's no real coherence to the fleeting thoughts as Mike slides steadily deeper, pulling up Harvey's thigh as he moves up his body, and it seems like the most natural thing to throw his leg over Mike's thigh and pull him in deeper. Mike groans, deep in his chest – or maybe Harvey is the true source of the sound because it's impossible that he remains silent through something that feels so good. Mike's face as he bottoms out is a thing to behold, head thrown back, eyes closed, bottom lip clenched between his teeth.  
  
"Harvey…" It sounds almost like a prayer, a sound that lodges sharp and warm in his chest, and Harvey is done with Mike being too far away to touch him. He reaches out for any part of the other man he can reach, pulls him up by arm and shoulder until they're finally chest to chest, face to face, Mike's weight warm and _right_ atop of him. It's only natural then to pull him down into a kiss, and Mike is meeting him halfway, Mike's lips hot against his own as his tongue slides into his mouth. Hot and perfect.  
  
Almost.  
  
Harvey pulls away by sheer force of will, though he can't tear his eyes away from the sight of Mike's lips, red and slick and kiss-swollen.  
  
"Move, Mike." He tightens his leg around Mike's back, calf digging into the juncture of thigh and ass in an attempt to pull him even closer. "Move, damn it!"  
  
Mike smiles and leans in for another kiss, but he obediently pulls back his hips and pushes in again and _this_ is exactly what Harvey wanted.  
  
He starts out slow, almost too slow for Harvey's liking, more of a rotation of hips rather than real thrusts. Harvey snaps his hips to meet him as Mike's thrusts become longer and harder, and his hands roam aimlessly over the expanse of warm, smooth skin on Mike's back. They kiss almost frantically, panting breaths into each other's mouths but unwilling to break apart any farther than absolutely necessary. Their rhythm grows heated quickly, and Harvey feels like he's barely holding on, clinging to Mike and his fingers digging into the younger man's back as Mike thrusts into him in long and hard strokes that hit all the right spots.  
  
Harvey can feel his arousal mounting, coiling hot and tight inside of him, and still he wants more, wants Mike closer and deeper. Most of all though he wants for this to continue, wouldn't mind for it to last for the entire night. He's too far gone already, though, and when Mike shifts his weight on top of him and sneaks a hand between their bodies to wrap around his achingly hard cock, it becomes almost too much.  
  
Mike is thrusting into him hard and fast, and the hand around his cock is tight, stroking him in time with the movement of his hips, his thumb skirting around the head of his cock, and Harvey clings on, pressing a string of open-mouthed kisses, licks and bites along the line of Mike's shoulder. Mike's skin is hot and heady under his mouth, faint traces of salt mingling with a taste that's purely Mike.  
  
He pulls Mike in for another kiss, unable to resist the pull of those lips for too long, and the movement causes Mike to shift on top of him. The shift in position changes something about the angle, though Harvey can't say if it's deliberate or not. But the next time Mike pushes into him, his cock hits his prostate straight on and Mike tightens his grip around Harvey's cock even more.  
  
Another of those thrusts and it's too much. His orgasm takes him by surprise – he's been tethering on the edge for so long that he wasn't quite aware how close he's really been. As Mike thrusts into him and tightens his hand around Harvey's cock, the tight coil in Harvey's belly unrolls and he comes between their bodies, heels digging into the mattress, his spine arching and his fingers digging into Mike's shoulders as he moans and gasps his release against Mike's lips.  
  
It's almost too much, too many sensations washing over him at once, and if he was in any way coherent he'd sure as hell hope that Mike doesn't notice how he clings to him almost helplessly as he rides out the waves. Mike keeps thrusting into him, but his movements are getting erratic, Harvey's name a groan on his lips as he pushes in deep one last time, body going taut and his muscles tense as he comes. His hips keep jerking through his orgasm, thrusting shallowly in and out before he sags on top of Harvey with a sigh.  
  
"Oh god," he mumbles into Harvey's skin, his breath hot and moist against his neck. There's a clever retort to that, Harvey's sure of that, but his brain isn't able to provide it right now. All he can do is keep his arms around Mike – he's not clinging, though, he'd never do that – and run his hands over the sweat-slick skin on Mike's back. They're both breathing hard, panting into each other's skin, and Harvey can feel the rapid pounding of Mike's heart against his own chest.  
  
He wants to stay like this for the rest of the night, or at least until he comes down from the incredible rush of his climax, but all too soon Mike shifts atop of him. He raises himself up and withdraws, and Harvey is surprised at the empty feeling that leaves in its wake. He'd much rather have Mike's warmth pressed against him again, even though he knows that he has only gone off to dispose of the condom. He's back less than a minute later – still too long, much too long – and Harvey only musters up enough strength to open his eyes when he feels a gentle touch to his stomach. Mike is sitting on the bed beside him, the towel they discarded earlier in his hand as he cleans the come off Harvey's skin.  
  
There's an expression on his face that Harvey can't quite define, but he doesn't take the time to think about it. The urge to pull Mike closer and kiss him is too strong and he doesn't fight it. Mike follows easily, settling warm against his side, and Harvey kisses him until they're both breathless.  
  
Somehow, Mike manages to maneuver them underneath the blanket before he curls up against him once more, and Harvey feels pleasantly drowsy, sleep already beginning to tug at him. He doesn't want to sleep though, he wants to stay awake, right here, with Mike. He _shouldn't_ want it, he knows that. It's just sex, and Mike is already investing far too much emotion into this. Harvey should feel bad for exploiting Mike's feelings towards him like this, for stringing him along when he clearly wants something Harvey can't give him.  
  
He should turn his back towards him and wait for Mike to leave, like he always does. He can feel like an asshole about it later, when he's alone in his bed.  
  
He can't, though.  
  
He can't turn his back to Mike, and he doesn't want to let go. He wants to stay just where he is, sleepy, content and sated, with Mike pressing small kisses into his skin.  
  
It's wrong – if anything that feels as right as this can be called wrong – and it goes against all of his rules, but it shouldn't really surprise him anymore. He's been breaking rules for Mike ever since the day they first met. He should have seen it coming from miles away that it wouldn't stop until even the last of Harvey's defenses was crumbling down around him.  
  
Maybe that's why it's called _falling_ in love, because Harvey might have missed the moment he stepped off the ledge and started tumbling down, but he sure as hell realizes it now that he's hit the ground and everything comes crashing down around him. This is more than just sex, has been more than that for a while now, and he just didn't see it.  
  
It figures that it should happen with Mike, and not with anybody else. It also figures that it took until now for him to realize it, until Mike took him apart and put him back together again the way he did today.  
  
He's getting pleasantly drowsy nestled in a warm cocoon of blankets and Mike's arms. And there's going to be a whole lot of implications, he knows that, but right here, right now, Harvey is content in a way he hasn't been in a long time.  
  
He's pulled out of his pleasantly drowsy drifting when Mike stirs beside him, presses another kiss against Harvey's chest and sits up. They've been here before, each and every time they landed in bed together, but for the first time Harvey since this thing between them started Harvey reaches out to stop him. His fingers wrap around Mike's wrist seemingly of their own accord, and Mike's eyes are wide as he turns back towards him.  
  
"Harvey?"  
  
There's so much implied emotion in those two syllables, a mixture of _surpriseworryaffectionhope_ , and so many things Harvey should be saying in response, so much he should probably say out loud because Mike is the kind of person who needs to _hear_ things in order to believe them, but all he manages to bring out is a single word.  
  
"Stay."  
  
It's not enough, it's not even a _question_ , and it leaves too many things unanswered, but after the agonizing span of a couple of heartbeats Mike smiles and lies back down, curls back into Harvey's side as if that one word is all he needed to hear. As if it wasn't ruefully inadequate.  
  
Harvey leans in and cups Mike's cheek, feeling the slight stubble brush against his fingers. Mike meets his gaze, blue eyes fluttering shut as Harvey leans in for another kiss. This time it's easy and lingering, and when they break apart Harvey can't help but bury his nose into the side of Mike's neck, breathing him in.  
  
"Okay," Mike mumbles, and Harvey's lips pull up in a smile even though Mike can't see it.  
  
"Good."  
  
There's more that needs to be said, but tomorrow is Sunday and there's going to be plenty of time for that then. Right now, Harvey is a red-blooded male in the waning afterglow of really good sex, and he can feel sleep tugging at him insistently. He's ready to give in, and Mike seems ready to follow him.  
  
There's one more thing that needs to be said, though.  
  
"I'll make you breakfast."  
  
Because if he already has to get used to a whole new set of rules, he might as well fall back onto one of his mother's life lessons and go by the principle that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And while he never owned a dog in his life, he's pretty damn sure that if you feed the puppy, it's going to stick around.  
  
Harvey makes the best damn waffles in all of Manhattan. He should be set on all fronts.  
  
Leaning up to steal another quick kiss – just because he can – Harvey settles against Mike with a sigh and allows himself to drift off.  
  
  
 _ **The End**_

**Author's Note:**

> The orginal prompt was:  
> Harvey is awesome at sex. The people he sleeps with know this and as a result Harvey always takes the lead in bed. Harvey and Mike have been in a relationship type thing for a little while now and Mike (who is head over heels in love) begs Harvey to just lie back and let him take care of him. Harvey (who is this close *holds up fingers* to being in love) is hesitant but lets Mike do what he wants. Mike then makes Harvey's brain leak out of his ears. And Harvey is kind of in awe that someone would take the time to do this for him because he's never had anyone pay this much attention to just him and not themselves and Mike is special and amazing and oh hey, I do love him :)


End file.
